


I’ll Be Your Home

by markhyuckfest, supremekermit



Category: NCT (Band), SM Rookies
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Chefs, Alternate Universe - Idols, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 22:57:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17171039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/markhyuckfest/pseuds/markhyuckfest, https://archiveofourown.org/users/supremekermit/pseuds/supremekermit
Summary: Prompt number:#71Side Pairings (if any):Taeyong/JohnnyWarnings:Discussion of insecuritySummary:As the renowned pastry chef of Lee's bakery, Donghyuck's life is a clockwork of early morning batches and midnight fondant. An encounter with an odd customer changes his routine.





	I’ll Be Your Home

**Author's Note:**

> **Author Note:** thank you to the prompter for sending this in! i got a bit carried away with it, but i hope you enjoy <3 i also cannot bake for the life of me, so all info is referenced from marathoning cupcake wars + the great british bake-off

In all objectivity, Lee’s Bakery makes the best cupcakes in the entirety of Seoul. Donghyuck knows this because it’s written in large, bolded font on the magazine column cut-out Taeyong had stuck on his fridge. Everytime Donghyuck walks past it, he can’t help but let a smile work its way up his face.

After all, he and Taeyong had opened up the small bakery shortly after Donghyuck’s stint at the world-renowned Le Cordon Bleu. Since then, the bakery has garnered positive attention, touted as a “hidden gem of Seoul”. Nothing gives Donghyuck greater joy than watching customers gaze at his creations in wonder, murmuring their delight once they take a bite.

As such, no feeling can parallel the absolute devastation Donghyuck feels as he watches his precious cupcakes be tossed to the fate of the public trash-can.

Before he could form any well-reasoned thought, Donghyuck pushes through the glass door of the bakery, screeching to a halt as he reaches the proximity of the _murderer_.

“Sir.”

At the soft touch to his shoulder, the culprit whirls around, nearly jumping a foot in the air. His phone manages to slip out of his hand, and Donghyuck watches with an unamused gaze as the man lunges to save the device from the doom of the concrete pavement.

Phone safely secured, the culprit raises it back to his ear. His wide eyes don’t leave Donghyuck’s face. “Uh, it’s nothing,” he tells whoever is on the other end. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He ends the call with shaky fingers.

“Can I help you?” he stutters out.

Sucking in a breathe, Donghyuck levels a finger at the city-issued plastic cylinder. “Why did you throw that away?”

“What?”

“The cupcakes. Why did you throw them away? Were they bad?”

Confused, the man looks in the direction of Donghyuck’s finger, before turning back to him with another blank stare. For a brief second, Donghyuck thinks he recognizes his face, maybe from one of the other times the man had passed by the bakery, but the thought is quickly shrouded in anger. Before Donghyuck has the chance to start hissing, or lord forbid engage in any of what Taeyong would as “non-customer friendly behavior”, realization clicks. The culprit’s eyebrows shoot up, neck snapping as he whirls between the trash can and Donghyuck. Then, in another comical leap of events, his expression falls into one of guilt.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do that, I just-”

Donghyuck’s eyebrows furrow. “You didn’t mean to toss away the cupcakes?”

The culprit colors. “I mean, I did but-”

“So it wasn’t an accident,” Donghyuck states, raising a brow.

“Well, yes, but-”

Ignoring Taeyong’s head in his voice, telling him to not do anything that he’ll regret later when he sees a one star review on Yelp, Donghyuck allows a pitched noise to escape from his throat. The culprit freezes, alarmed, but Donghyuck is far too peeved to feel any ounce of embarrassment. Instead, he crosses his arms and juts out his chin. He needs answers. “Did they taste bad?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why would you throw them out!”

“Because I’m on a diet!” the culprit shouts. He winces when he realizes how loud the outburst has been, stuttering out an apology under his breath as eyes turn to watch him curiously. From Donghyuck’s stance, he can see Jisung striding to the door of the shop to offer an interested squint. Donghyuck waves him away, prompting Jisung to roll his eyes. Brat.

Donghyuck turns back to the guy at hand, who’s looking at him with a weird gaze. “Yeah, well why would you buy a cupcake if you’re on a diet? That doesn’t even make any sense.”

Something flashes in the guy’s eyes. “I-” He cuts off as his phone rings, letting out a little huff of exasperation. Shooting an apologetic glance at Donghyuck, he picks up the call. “Hello? Yes- Yes, I’m on my way. Yeah- Okay. Yeah.” His flustered expression falls as he ends the call, shifting to an emotion that Donghyuck can’t quite read.

“Listen, I need to get going but um, I’m really sorry about that, I just- well something came up but once again, I’m really sorry.” He sounds sincere in his apology, yet Donghyuck can’t help but let out a cry of protest as he slips away, jogging down the street until he could no longer be distinguished from the sea of people in the crowd.

Donghyuck narrows his eyes at the distance, before letting them fall back on the trash can. If he strains, he swears he can hear the anguished cries of his beautifully frosted children emerging from the cursed depths of the Seoul City garbage.

Donghyuck stomps his way back to the bakery, letting the regret of confronting a stranger trail him through the glass doors.

 

 

“Welcome to Lee’s Bakery— Oh.”

Donghyuck freezes, nearly dropping the tray of cupcakes in his hand. With a quick, reassured breathe that his babies hadn’t been ruined, he slides the tray onto the counter, eyes still pinned on the stranger at the door.

A stranger that he remembered all too well.

“Hi,” the boy says, shifting uncomfortable.

Donghyuck tosses a spare glance over his shoulder to make sure Taeyong was still in the kitchen, before pasting on his best customer service smile. It’s crooked at the edges.“Hi? Can I help you?”

“No? I mean, yes?” More shuffling. “I just wanted to, uh, say something.”

Donghyuck pales. “Oh my god. I know why you’re here.”

He can already see it, the one-star Yelp review that Taeyong will inevitably bring up at Sunday dinner with teary eyes. Lord knows he doesn’t get enough sleep to endure his cousin’s tears.

“You do?”

The words come out all at once.

“I’m so sorry for the other day, I shouldn’t have yelled at you, I know it’s not any of my business what you do with the things you buy, I mean I do think it’s a waste to buy a perfectly good cupcake and then not even eat it, but it’s a free country and you should be able to do whatever you want but also please don’t leave a one star review-” he cuts off as he takes in the boy’s bug-eyed expression. “Sorry.”

With a wince, Donghyuck braces himself for some kind of response. Maybe it will end with an angry agreement and the guy storming out. Instead, the stranger takes a step forward, concerned.

“No, no, it’s chill,” he says, shaking his head at Donghyuck with those big, blinking eyes. “I wanted to say sorry too, about throwing the cupcake away. I feel really bad about it.”

Donghyuck tries to not let his chin drop. The boy must see the dismay in his expression because he shoves his hands into pockets and mumbles, “I just wanted to come in and let you know that, for some reason.” He peeks again at Donghyuck, before dropping his gaze to the floor. “I’m just gonna go now, I guess.”

With that, he makes a motion to turn around, footsteps heading towards the door.

“Wait!”

The guy freezes, hand just short of the handle. Donghyuck takes the chance to slide out from the counter, patting down his apron as he skids to a stop

“Thank you,” Donghyuck says. He’s smiling, the edges of his lips tugging into a wry grin. It’s authentic this time. “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” the boy replies.

Up close, Donghyuck can see the features of his face that had been obscured by the rim of his cap. He’s handsome.

Pulse quickening, Donghyuck sticks out his hand. “I’m Lee Donghyuck.”

The boy stare at his appendage like it’s alien contraband. Flustered, Donghyuck moves to retrieve his arm, only for the stranger to reach out. His hands are rough, but warm as he returns the handshake.

The stranger mirrors his smile with own shy version.

“I’m… Lee Minhyung.”

 

 

In the grand scheme of things, Donghyuck would have never guessed that storming up to a customer and demanding why they threw away an uneaten cupcake, an interaction classified by Taeyong as “highly inappropriate behavior”, would spiral into this.

Whatever this is.

Minhyung comes back. A few days after the apology (which Donghyuck had most definitely not lied awake thinking about), the bell chimes and Donghyuck looks up to see a familiar figure make his way into the store.

Taeyong beats him to the punch. “Welcome to Lee’s Bakery. What can we get for you?” he chirps.

“Minhyung,” Donghyuck calls out, grinning.Taeyong sends him a quizzical glance, but nonetheless moves aside to let Donghyuck take the register.

The boy in question smiles. “Hey Donghyuck.” He’s wearing a cap again today, Donghyuck realizes, and his round spectacles are back. It’s cute. Just like the way Minhyung’s nose scrunches as his eyes scan the display case, widening when they land on a single honeycomb cupcake. Donghyuck can’t help the small prick of pride in his chest. He’d woken up at the crack of dawn to bake that particular batch.

“Can I get you anything?” Donghyuck pauses, smile turning mischievous. “Oh right. You’re on a diet.”

The pout that forms on Minhyung’s lips compels Donghyuck to fall into a fit of giggles. He avoids it, for the sake of them both.

“That’s just mean,” Minhyung huffs. “I’ve been eating chicken breast and broccoli for the past two weeks.”

It’s Donghyuck’s turn to scrunch his nose, letting out a sound of disgust. “That sounds terrible,” he says, gesturing to the pastries in front of them. Minhyung lets out a quiet groan and Donghyuck simply laughs.

Their conversations go on like this for weeks. Every few days, the doorbell will chime a few minutes short of closing time and Donghyuck will perk up as Minhyung strolls in, hands jammed in his pockets and a characteristic smile on his face. Minhyung will lean on counter as he watches Donghyuck wipe down the display case, laughing when Donghyuck yells for Jisung to grab a mop or god forbid, do his job.

Donghyuck has never thought of himself as a shy person. Yet, there’s something about Mark that makes him hesitate, ruminating on words before he dares to let them fall from his mouth.

The day Mark comes back with platinum locks in place of his typical auburn, Donghyuck’s tongue slips.

“Why are you on a diet?”

At the look on Minhyung’s face, he quickly adds, “It’s okay if you’re not comfortable saying.” Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Taeyong eavesdropping as he wipes down a table that Donghyuck had already cleaned not ten minutes ago.

Minhyung shakes his head. “No, it’s fine, it’s just— I need to get into shape for uh….” He trails off, eyes roaming the display case. “Work purposes.”

Donghyuck lets his curiosity get the better half of him. “You’re not in school?”

“Nope.”

“What do you do then?”

“I’m, uh, a musician.”

“A musician!” Donghyuck exclaims, propping chin onto his open palms. “What type of music?”

Mark fidgets. “Just some rap stuff.”

“Oh my god. Are you a Soundcloud rapper?”

Mark barks out an incredulous laugh. “No, I definitely don’t have a Soundcloud.”

Donghyuck’s smile widens. “For a second there, I was going to ask for your username. Lil’ Minhyung maybe?”

“I can assure you that at the very least, I’ll never be Lil’ Minhyung,” Minhyung replies in exasperation. Yet despite his tone, there’s a twinkle to his eyes that sends a jab to Donghyuck’s chest.

 

 

The feeling trails him, even as he finds himself sitting at his kitchen counter at 1 AM, blinking blearily at a laptop screen. Every so often, he relieves his pencil from the trappings of his mouth to scribble down notes. A song plays under his breath, a melody he can’t discern the origin of. It’s familiar, somehow.

He’s still humming the song hours later, just as sunlight begins to peak through the cracks in his curtains. Stepping back, Donghyuck surveys the mess he’s made of his kitchen. There are no less than 6 mixing bowls strewn across the open counters and spatulas tossed here and there between the open containers of ingredients.

Taeyong would have a heart attack if he saw this.

“What. The. Hell.”

Donghyuck whirls around, coming to face to face with a paling Taeyong. His cousin had long since developed a habit of waltzing into Donghyuck’s apartment unannounced, regardless of Donghyuck’s initial complaints. Then again, when you live in the flat above the family bakery, privacy is simply a construct.

Donghyuck offers a weak smile. “Hey there.”

Taeyong steps forward, almost gingerly. It doesn’t take a genius to spot the twitch of Taeyong’s fingers as he takes in the aftermath of a tornado in the kitchen. Donghyuck lets out a sigh when Taeyong approaches the counter, hands already reaching out to clear away the bowls.

“I can explain,” Donghyuck tries.

The words do nothing to deter the speed at which Taeyong stacks the mixing bowls with one hand and gathers utensils with another. “How many times do I have to tell you to not stay up to bake-”

“I was just playing around with a recipe,” he mumbles.

“Oh yeah? And how many hours did you sleep?”

Donghyuck opts for silence. Instead, he grabs the stack of bowls from Taeyong and lowers them into the sink.

Taeyong’s expression sours. “Lee Donghyuck.”

If there’s one thing that never fails to rip a frustrated groan from Donghyuck’s throat, it’s that exact tone. Donghyuck slips on the pink dish gloves and reaching for a sponge. “It’s not even that big of a deal. Stop freaking out, mom.”

Donghyuck can sense the way Taeyong shifts, edging closer to Donghyuck’s side as he turns on the tap. Leave it to his cousin to be the sentimental pedant. The nickname isn’t a far stretch, even if Taeyong seems to tense up everytime Donghyuck throws it his way. Taeyong had practically raised Donghyuck in the aftermath of his parent’s passing, even if Taeyong’s mother and father had the one to take him under their wing. Donghyuck single-handedly credits his cousin for all of his achievements (despite Taeyong’s fervent denials). His cousin could be overbearing at times, but Donghyuck knows it comes from a place of love.

It’s with that knowledge that Donghyuck shuts off the water and wiggles off his gloves, turning to face Taeyong with a sheepish smile. “So.”

Taeyong looks at him, expectant. “So?”

“I told you I was working on a new recipe.” Just then, the timer rings out, filling the kitchen with the melody of _Billie Jean_.

_And be careful of what you do ‘cause the lie becomes the truth-_

Donghyuck switches off the timer, before rushing to the oven. Somehow, Taeyong is already there, opening the oven door with mitt-covered hands and pulling out the tray. His eyebrows furrow as he sets the tray down, turning to Donghyuck with a questioning look.

“You made muffins?”

Donghyuck nods, eyes gleeful as he takes in the golden color of the product. After batches of failures, these look promising.

Taeyong leans closer. “Why are they green?”

Breaking out into a grin, Donghyuck jabs a finger to the far corner of the counter. Taeyong follows the direction, before his gaze settle on a bag of leafy greens. His eyes widen.

“Is that _kale?_?

“And lemon!” He plucks a muffin off the tray, careful of the heat, and places it on the cooling rack. Taeyong is quick to lend a hand and soon, a small army of muffins are sitting on the cooling rack, wafting a citrus scent through the air. Donghyuck beams at the sight.

“I thought you swore you were never going to make muffins again, after what happened last year.”

Wincing, Donghyuck recalls the experience involving a particular blueberry cream cheese muffin recipe and the now burnt remains of one of his favorite hoodies. Needless to say, Donghyuck’s adventures in baking haven't always been without hitches.

“I thought I should switch things up a bit and offer healthier options or whatever. For the customers.”

Donghyuck does not like the sly smirk that works its way up Taeyong’s face one bit. “You mean a certain customer. Maybe someone who comes in every few days but never buys anything because he’s on a diet?”

“I—”

”You are painfully obvious.”

Perhaps he is, if even Taeyong, of all people, is looking at him with a smug smile. Donghyuck relents with a sigh, gesturing towards the muffins. “Can you try it and tell me how it tastes?”

Taeyong plucks off a small piece and plops it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. After a second, he pauses to raise an eyebrow. “Vegan?”

Donghyuck nods, eyes imploring Taeyong for his evaluation. As a baker himself, Taeyong was the ultimate verdict. If he said they tasted bad, the batch would end up in the compost in the blink of an eye.

Taeyong chews some more, before his lips stretch into a smile. “It tastes amazing.”

Donghyuck sighs in relief.

“Although maybe, less kale.”

 

 

 

“What is that.”

Minhyung stares, uncomprehending. The moment he entered the store, tired eyes obscured by his trusty cap, Donghyuck could barely contain his delighted squeal as he sprinted to the kitchen.

Now, from behind the counter, Donghyuck watches as Minhyung eyes the baby blue container with apprehension.

Donghyuck clears his throat. “It’s a gift,” Donghyuck says. He pushes the pastry box across the counter, cheeks coloring despite his nonchalant expression.

“A gift?” Minhyung blinks. He takes the box and lifts it from the counter. “Are these cupcakes?”

“Open it.”

Minhyung’s eyes widen. “These are-”

“Vegan kale and lemon muffins.”

When Minhyung looks back up, he’s greeted with the sight of Donghyuck’s broad smile. “I-”

“I know you’re on that diet,” Donghyuck rushes out. “But I thought of you when I came across this recipe on a blog and I thought it’d be cool to try it out! Did you know that these are only 100 calories each? Kale is packed with proteins and other nutrients— “ He abruptly cuts off, a look of horror dawning his face. The next words come out as scandalized whisper. “Do you like kale? Oh my god, that’s so presumptuous of me, I didn’t even think about if you didn’t like, I’m sorry—”

Laughter bubbles up from Minhyung’s throat. Donghyuck jumps at the sound, but Mark is quick to shake his head and bite back the laughter. Minhyung’s smile is warm.

“I love kale. Thank you.”

Donghyuck’s expression drops. “That’s a lie. No one loves kale.”

His stomach swoops at the way Minhyung blinks in surprise. “Well, I think it’s a respectable vegetable, nonetheless.”

Donghyuck nods, solemn in consideration. It’s only another second before his face breaks out into another sunny smile. “Well, do you wanna try one?”

“Can I?”

“They’re for you, so of course.”

Donghyuck holds his breath as Minhyung reaches for a muffin and raises it to his mouth, taking a delicate bite. Immediately, his eyes largen.

A lump rises to Donghyuck’s throat. “Is it good?”

Per Taeyong’s suggestion, Donghyuck had cut back on the kale, refining the recipe until the cupcake possessed a fragile balance of subtle sweetness and tangy lemon. He’d even drizzled an agave glaze on the top, for good measure. He finds is breath again as Minhyung enthusiastically takes another bite.

“It’s good,” Minhyung replies, moaning in delight. “The last thing I ate was Jaemin’s badly seasoned baked chicken breast and this is just. It’s so good. Thank you.”

Donghyuck sags with relief, shoulders deflating as his eyes twinkle. His fingers drum against the counter, taking in the sight of Minhyung with fully filled cheeks.

“That’s… good.”

 

 

“So I heard you baked muffins.”

Donghyuck forgot how fast news tends to spread around his circle. He also forgot how annoyingly perceptive Renjun can be as he fixes Donghyuck with a pointed stare, eyes piercing over the rim of his bone china teacup. The aromatic scent of the signature Huang jasmine tea rises between them.

“Who told you?”

Renjun takes a delicate sip. “A little birdie named Jisung.”

Donghyuck frowns, dropping a sugar cube into his tea and giving the liquid a stir. At the sound of Renjun’s characteristic hiss, Donghyuck brings the cup to his lips with a smirk.

“And how does Jisung know?”

“We have a group chat for these things,” Renjun dismisses with a wave of his hands.

These things, of course, being the day to day events of Donghyuck’s life. Donghyuck scowls, lowering the teacup back down on the saucer plate with a sharp clang.

The sound earns a glare from Renjun. “Don’t take out your repressed feelings out on my fine china.”

Ignited, Donghyuck reaches for another sugar cube. This one he pops into his mouth, much to Renjun’s disgust.

“My feelings aren’t repressed,” Donghyuck argues.

The hard edges of Renjun’s scowl softens. Letting out a hum, he sits back to pin Donghyuck with a contemplative expression. “No, you’re right. If anything, you’re quite obvious.”

“Right!”

“So why hasn’t loverboy confessed his undying love for you yet?”

Donghyuck slumps, breaking off into a sigh. “I don’t know.”

Like Renjun said, Donghyuck knew he was an open book, emotions as easy to read as 24 pt font. Minhyung clearly wasn’t a dumbass, and if Donghyuck lets himself cling onto his hopes, lets himself think about the way Minhyung’s eyes seem to trail Donghyuck’s lips when he thinks he isn’t looking, Donghyuck thinks Minhyung might just like him too.

Still, he hasn’t asked Donghyuck out for a date. “Maybe he’s just not interested,” Donghyuck mutters. He avoids Renjun’s gaze, choosing to stare off in the distance only to stop at the sigh of pastel green.

“Hyuck!”

From the doorway, Chenle grins. He drops the school bag previously slung over one shoulder onto the ground, rushing forward to wrap his arm around Donghyuck. Donghyuck can’t bring himself to be mad at the lack of honorifics.

Chenle pulls up a chair to the table and sits down with a pout. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve taught you better than to tell lies in this household,” Renjun sniffs. “Why are you back so early?"

Donghyuck dismisses his initial reaction to pelt Renjun with sugar cubes in favor of looking to Chenle. The boy shrugs, resting the phone in his hand on the table. “Choir practice was cancelled and I was gonna wait for Jisung’s soccer practice to end so we could head back together, but he said to not wait up.”

The relationship between Chenle and Jisung never fails to baffle Donghyuck. It’s mystifying, really, how two seemingly different people can be attached at the hip. Jisung bats away anyone who comes within a foot of his space, but he says nothing when it’s Chenle clinging to his side. A wonder of the world, if Donghyuck’s ever seen one.

“Were you guys talking about loverboy?” Chenle asks.

Donghyuck groans. “Why is everyone calling him that.”

Chenle shrugs. “Blame Johnny.”

Of course it was Johnny with the corny nicknames. Donghyuck softens at the mention of the older man, but holds his sneer. “Why is everyone so damn interested in my life?”

Renjun gestures at the scene. “You literally came here to complain about your inability to score a date. We’re a captive audience.”

“You’re literally the worst best friend,” Donghyuck pouts.

“I’m your only best friend.”

“Now, now, boys,” Chenle cuts in, holding his hands up between them. “Let’s not get into a fight already, it’s barely past four.”

Donghyuck crosses his arms with a scowl, while Renjun lets an indignant sniff. Bored with their typical antics, Chenle rolls his eyes, yanking his phone out of the depths of his pocket to scroll through it.

“Kids these days,” Renjun mutters.

Chenle shakes his head. “Please, you’re only 20, stop acting like you’re a retired senior citizen telling me to get off your lawn.” He resumes to scrolling, before stopping at something on his screen. “Wow, this article is just mean.”

“What article?”

“This one.” Chenle tilts the screen towards a curious Donghyuck. “They’re talking about that SM Entertainment boy group that debuted a while back.”

“What about them?” Renjun asks.

“DREAM demonstrates disappointing sales performance and an inability to match the public appeal of previous SM Entertainment groups. While the members, most notably Mark Lee, demonstrate superior rapping skills, it will be a long time before they can be declared a success,” Donghyuck reads over Chenle’s shoulder. His eyebrows furrow. “What does that even mean?”

“They’re just being ridiculous,” Chenle says. “I think it’s just a matter of time before they hit it big. I mean, look at how cute they all are!”

He taps to the top of the article, where a photo displays three boys smoldering at the camera. Squinting at the screen, Donghyuck feels a creeping sense of familiarity.

“Wait-”

He snatches the device away from Chenle, ignoring the younger boy’s protests. Somewhere in the back of his brain, a voice screams that he’s known all along. Still, Donghyuck can barely believe his eyes as he stares at the photo, or rather Minhyung’s face.

Donghyuck thinks of the boy with a frizzy mess of hair, jammed under a beat-up baseball cap.

It’s the same boy that stares back at him now, with kohl-rimmed eyes and glistening skin.

“Holy shit.”

 

 

Donghyuck fidgets.

When his five AM alarm rings for the next day, his eyes are already open. He spends his early hours in the kitchen walking back and forth from the cooler to the oven, fingers tapping absentmindedly against his thigh as he watches a handful of cupcake batches rise. At seven, Taeyong waltzes in with a cup of coffee and a questioning gaze, one that deepens when he catches Donghyuck’s gaze drifting to the same crack in the kitchen tiles for the nth time that hour.

“Are you okay?” Taeyong asks. His hand is soft against Donghyuck’s forehead, eyes wide with concern as he searches for any sign of a fever.

Donghyuck shakes away his hand with a crooked smile. “Completely fine.”

But he fidgets. It doesn’t stop. Donghyuck spends the rest of the day fidgeting, muscles moving on their own accord, eyes flitting to the clock. After the last of the customers have left and Taeyong clocked out, though not before reminding Donghyuck about coming by for dinner, he maneuvers from display case to display case, rubbing the rag cross the same place for the 20th time. He fidgets and fidgets and fidgets until--

The shop bell rings. Donghyuck jerks up and promptly forgets how to breathe.

“Hey.”

Minhyung’s smile is the same as it’s always been. Except…

“Are you wearing eyeliner?”

Startled, Minhyung’s hands jump to his face. He cringes at the touch. “Yes?”

“You look… different,” Donghyuck ventures.

Minhyung stills, eyes meeting Donghyuck with hesitation. “Is that a bad thing?”

“You’re famous.”

The words don’t come out the way Donghyuck intended. They’re blunt, jagged at the edges as they fall from his lips. They’re the wrong words, Donghyuck realizes, when the winces and takes a step back.

“What-”

“Wait, wait,” Donghyuck stutters. He takes in the way Mark’s shoulder tense, the way his feet angle him to sprint out the glass doors should he choose. “Before you freak out and run away or something, hear me out?”

Minhyung nods, face uncertain.

“How’d you find out?”

Donghyuck jolts at the steadiness of his voice, before offering a sheepish smile. “I’m not a creepy stalker or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about. I just saw a picture of you in an article.”

“SM Entertainment’s new project boy group,” Minhyung recites. His eyes are unreadable.

Donghyuck nods, teeth catching on his lips. “Your name is Mark?”

In truth, Donghyuck isn’t sure what he expected to happen. Still, the manner in which the boy’s eyes fall to the ground sends a sharp pang to Donghyuck’s chest. “I’m sorry for lying,” he blurts out to the linoleum. “It was just…”

“I get it.”

Mark’s head jerks up.

“You do?”

Donghyuck’s expression is delicate. “Yeah. I do.”

With a creak, Donghyuck pushes through the small door guarding the counter and takes a tentative step forward, towards Mark. The latter startles at the sudden decrease of distance, but he stays still, eyes wide as Donghyuck halts to a stop. Donghyuck swallows the lump in his throat and smiles.

“Hi, my name is Donghyuck.”

Realization dawns. Mark clears his throat. “H-hi, my name is Mark.”

“Nice to meet you, Mark.”

A shiny smile finds its way to Mark’s lips and Donghyuck watches with awe as it blooms into a wide grin.

“Nice to meet you too. Say, do you happen to have any makeup wipes?”

 

 

Donghyuck likes to think that he’s an organized person. But when Mark is standing in his living room, limbs gangly and eyes wandering, Donghyuck’s gaze jumps to the small pile of sweaters he’d haphazardly tossed across the sofa, right next to an emoji throw pillow Jisung had gifted him for his birthday.

“It should be in the bathroom, I’ll be back in a second,” Donghyuck mutters, crossing the room to gather the pile in his arms. “Make yourself at home!”

Donghyuck’s cheeks flushing as he hears Mark let out a little laugh down the hall. Swearing under his breath, he all but drop kicks the pile into his room, before snatching his pack of makeup wipes from the top of his drawers.

By the time he makes his way back to the living room, Mark has settled on the couch, emoji pillow tucked under one arm. He raises an eyebrow at Donghyuck, who simply huffs.

“Don’t you think it’s rude to question another person’s choice in interior decor?’ Donghyuck asks, extending the pack of wipes within Mark’s reach.

Mark laughs and takes the wipes. “I didn’t say anything, but thanks.”

He scoots over and looks up at Donghyuck, patting the empty space behind him. Donghyuck doesn’t know why he needs Mark’s permission to sit, but he complies anyways.

“Jisung bought it for me as a Christmas gift last year,” Donghyuck volunteers. “When I asked him if it was a gag gift, I couldn’t tell if he was offended or trying not to laugh.”

“I’d say the latter.” Mark gives the pillow a squish, before returning his gaze to Donghyuck. “It’s cute.”

Like you. Donghyuck bites back the words. Instead, he mutters, “I’ll get you something to drink,” and scurries off to the kitchen. When he returns with a filled mug and a calmer heart, Mark had taken to his face with the makeup wipes. Donghyuck sets down the mug on the coffee table, breathe hitching.

Donghyuck had never realized how fascinating watching someone take off makeup could be. Now, he sits at the opposite end of the couch, enraptured at how the creases manifest between Mark’s brows as the boy pushes the cotton sheet against an eye. Thankfully, Mark doesn’t notice, preoccupied with wincing at the sting of the makeup remover.

“Here,” Donghyuck says, and before he realizes it, he’s maneuvering across the couch.

For a second, his mind stutters at the lack of distance between them, but he soldiers on, taking the wipe away from Mark’s hands. Mark startles, then sucks in a breathe, hand dropping down his lap as Donghyuck cradles his face.

To his relief, Mark stills, letting Donghyuck sweep the cloth gently across his skin. His eyes don’t leave Donghyuck, but he complies to the boy’s little murmurs and prods of direction. They work in silence. At this close of a proximity, Donghyuck can only hope that Mark can’t hear the quickened pace of his heart beat.

“Done.”

Donghyuck sits back and remembers how to breathe again. Mark blinks. His eyes are unreadable, but softened by the lack of eyeliner. “Thank you.”

Donghyuck simply nods, before clearing his throat. “For someone who wears makeup on a near daily basis, you were practically about to stab your eye out with that removing technique.”

The tension dissipates. Mark huffs, taking back the now stained wipe from Donghyuck’s hands. “It’s not my fault the makeup artists like to use waterproof makeup,” he mumbles, standing up to search for the trash can.

Donghyuck points to the kitchen. “Well, at least it looks good?”

He doesn’t miss the way Mark’s ears flush as he mumbles out a thanks.

 

 

“Hey, can I have your number?”

Donghyuck startles, dropping the rag in his hand. He spares a glance to the corner, where Jisung is effectively hustling through his shift by napping with earbuds in.

Mark fidgets. “I won’t be coming in next week because we’re flying out to LA for the music video shoot. So we can, uh, text instead? If you want?”

If Donghyuck wants. As if Donghyuck hasn’t been dying to ask the same question every time Mark had popped in for a visit, eyes tired but smile wide. He’s restrained himself though. After all, Mark is Mark and Donghyuck is well… just Donghyuck.

“Yeah,” Donghyuck replies, careful to not seem too enthusiastic. Swiping at his apron, he retrieves his phone and all but shoves the device at Mark’s face.

“Awesome.”

They swap their devices. There’s a mild flavor of apprehension in Donghyuck’s mouth as he adds no less than three hearts after his contact name, but he hands it back to Mark before his fingers itch to delete them.

Donghyuck bites back a giggle when he looks down at Mark’s contact name. “Mark Lee.”

“What’s so funny?”

When Donghyuck looks back up, Mark is looking at him with a mystified gaze, but there’s a pinking to his ears that tells Donghyuck he’d seen the hearts. Donghyuck schools his face into a somber expression. “Mark Lee. Period.”

His face splits into a wicked grin at the whine Mark lets out. Donghyuck can’t hold back the giggles this time, but it’s okay because Mark joins in and soon they’re doubled over the counter, laughing at two words and an odd choice of punctuation.

“That’s not even funny,” Mark chokes out. Still, his eyes are filled with mirth as he straightens up and tosses a glance at the clock. “I have practice soon, so I need to leave. But text me?”

“Of course.”

And with that confirmation, Mark heads out, though not before turning back to send Donghyuck a smile. Donghyuck all but collapses on the counter when the door closes.

“You’re both hopeless.”

Donghyuck’s eyes whip to the corner, where Jisung sits upright with a smirk. “You’re not as good at flirting as you think you are.”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes, conscious of the heat in his cheeks. “Shut up. And go wipe down the tables before Taeyong gets back.”

 

 

Los Angeles is warm. That’s what Mark tells Donghyuck over the phone, voice rough and laced with sleep.

“How’s the food?” Donghyuck asks. He ignores Taeyong’s pointed expressions, settling on the small stool in the corner of the kitchen. Taeyong lets out a long-suffering sigh, exiting with a call for Yeri to restock the display case.

 _“You tell me, I’ve been drinking protein smoothies ever since we got here,”_ Mark responds with a snort.

“What? Don’t tell me you haven’t tried those famous burgers, what is it called-”

“ _In-N-Out?”_

“Yeah, that. _In and out_ ,” Donghyuck repeats, stretching the foreign words on his tongue. His lips curl into a smile when Mark laughs, the sound static through the receiver.

“Well, Jaemin and Jeno are conspiring about convincing the managers to buy us some, so I suppose it’s only a matter of time-”

He cuts off as a series of muffled sounds emerge from the background. “ _Who are you talking to?”_

_“D- someone.”_

Donghyuck stiffens at the word, but there’s an immediate sound of protest on the other line. “ _Is it the pastry chef guy you’re always giggling about? Yes it is, you suck at lying. Now pass over the phone and introduce us.”_

 _“Shut up Jaemin- Sorry Donghyuck, I think I need to go,_ ” Mark mutters into the phone. In the background, there’s an eruption of groans. Donghyuck smiles and bites at his cheek, holding back a laugh.

“Alright, good night and sleep well.”

Mark pauses before whispering, “You too, Hyuck.”

 

 

Time stretches on with little occasion. Donghyuck flits around in his daily routine, though he finds his eyes wandering to his phone between the odd hours, always searching for a certain notification. There’s a melody that finds its way under his breath throughout the days. Donghyuck can’t quite pinpoint where it came from, but he doesn’t spare it much thought as he finds himself in the midst of developing another recipe.

“What song is that?”

Donghyuck’s head whips up from his notes to the sight of Johnny leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest as he levels Donghyuck with a warm smile. At some point, Donghyuck’s simply become accustomed to his family showing up at his place with no warning.

Donghyuck shrugs. “No idea. What’s up?”

“Taeyong wanted to me drop this off,” Johnny says, raising the bag in his hand. “Side dishes and some soup.”

Donghyuck frowns, dropping his pen onto the counter and crossing the room to open the fridge for Johnny. “I haven’t even finished the food from a few days ago.” He watches Johnny bend down to set the containers inside the fridge before adding, “Don’t tell Taeyong that.”

Johnny laughs, standing up to full height with a soft grunt. “He’s just worried about you, Hyuck.”

“Unnecessarily so.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say it’s unnecessary. Someone’s gotta be worried when you’re as young and busy as you are.”

“Right. Full offense but you sound absolutely ancient.”

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” Johnny sighs, plopping down on a bar stool. “Take up your complaints with Taeyong at dinner tomorrow. Whatcha working on?”

Donghyuck looks down, to the cupcakes lining the counter. For a second, he indulges himself in pride. They’re topped in beautiful peaks, pink and white swirls dotted with a cherry on top. Below the frosting lies a bed of chocolate cake, each embedded with a jam center.

“Dark chocolate cherry cupcakes,” Donghyuck replies. He bats away Johnny’s sneaking hand. “I haven’t quite perfected the recipe, but I think I might be close.”

“Perhaps I could offer insight?”

Johnny drives a winning argument with his pout. Donghyuck wonders what that says about him, relenting to the kicked puppy expression of a man who had practically fathered him through his teenage years, but then again, he’d rather not know. “Fine, but let me take a picture first.”

He tiptoes over the counter for the perfect angle and throws a peace sign in, just for good measure.

_donghyuckie ♡♡♡♡_

_i woke up early to bake but idk if they turned out well TTATT_

_To his surprise, there’s an immediate response._

_mark lee._

_don’t torture me like this :((_

Donghyuck’s smile morphs into a laugh at the selfie Mark attaches, a blurry, low angle shot of him squinting into the camera.

“Is that loverboy?” Johnny over Donghyuck’s shoulder, eyes curious as he peaks at the screen. When Donghyuck jerks away, he lets out a cackle and falls back onto the stool with a smirk. Donghyuck all but shoves a cupcake into his mouth.

 

 

 

A few days after Mark comes back, Donghyuck’s phone rings in the middle of the night. Donghyuck startles from his position on the couch, eyes blinking blearily as he picks up.

“Hello?”

_“Donghyuck? Oh shit, you were sleeping weren’t you, I’m sorry I’ll hang up now, just go back to sleep-”_

“No, no, I’m awake,” Donghyuck says, sitting up. He reaches for the TV remote and lowers the volume to a mum, concern rising in place. “What’s up? Are you okay?”

There’s silence on the other line. Then, in a quiet voice, “ _No. No, not really._ ”

Donghyuck casts a glance at the clock. “What’s wrong?”

“ _Everything_.” Mark’s words cracking at the edges. “ _Everything is wrong. I’m wrong. I keep fucking up, even though I know I shouldn’t be, even though I know that I need to get things right. I keep fucking up, Hyuck, I’m a mess, and I don’t know what to do, I’m so scared, Hyuck-”_

“Mark, hey, take a deep breath,” Donghyuck says. He’s surprised at the steadiness in his own voice, even as he can feel his hands shake. “Where are you?”

“Where I always am. The practice room.”

“Are Jaemin and Jeno with you?”

“No, they’ve gone back to the dorms. It’s...just me here, I guess.”

When Donghyuck looks down, he realizes that he’s grabbed onto a jacket he’d flung across the couch and is halfway to the front door. Donghyuck stops, just short of slipping on his shoes, and thinks about how Mark must be right now, slumped in a corner of a dark practice room. The pain in his chest sharpens.

“Do you want to come over?”

For a second, he only hears Mark’s quiet breathing, each hitch of a breath sending another pang to Donghyuck’s chest.

“Okay.”

The minutes pass by like hours after Mark hangs up. Donghyuck gives up on sitting still, fumbling with the phone in his hand as he paces. When he finally hears a knock, Donghyuck all but sprints for the door.

He doesn’t know what he expects to see, but nothing quite prepares him for the sight of Mark, face obscured by a mask. Even then, in the dim light of the hallway, Donghyuck can see the weariness of Mark’s eyes, rimmed in red.

There’s no hesitation when he wraps his arms around the boy and pulls him into the apartment, Mark sagging into his touch.

They stay like that a while, slumped against the wall as Mark rests his head in the crook of Donghyuck’s neck and Donghyuck rubs circles against Mark’s back, until his ragged gasps of air even into something more calm. It’s then that Donghyuck pries himself away, to hold Mark at a shoulder length. The boy stares back at him with glassy eyes.

“Are you hungry?”

Mark startles at the question. Slowly, he nods and lets Donghyuck tug him into the kitchen.

“Sit,” Donghyuck orders, and smiles when Mark complies. Mark watches, curious, as Donghyuck puts around the kitchen, placing a pan onto the stove and cranking up the burner. While the stove heats, he slides over the fridge and loads his arms with containers, sending a silent thanks to Taeyong for the dishes he sent his way. Soon enough, the apartment fills with a savoury scent, hints of ginger and garlic rising from the bubbling stew. Donghyuck busies himself with whisking up an omelette, turning his back every now and then just to make sure Mark was still there.

Once the omelet turns golden, Donghyuck plates everything, ladling out the soup into bowls and scooping warm rice from the cooker that he’d forgotten to unplug. He sets the dishes down on the counter and watches as Mark’s eyes go wide.

“This-”

“You said you were hungry,” Donghyuck shrugs. “Eat up.”

Mark stares at the dishes in front of him, eyes roaming from the rising steam of the stew garnished with fresh watercress to the abundance of side dishes Donghyuck had spooned from Taeyong’s containers. He gulps, looking up at Donghyuck. “Eat with me.”

Donghyuck thinks about the pizza slices he’d devoured a few hours ago on Renjun’s couch, amidst their weekly marathon of terribly scripted sitcoms, and walks over to the rice cooker to fetch another bowl of rice.

They eat in silence. Donghyuck neglects his bowl in favor of placing more food in Mark’s, chopsticks deftly transferring marinated cucumbers and bits of omelette to the bed of rice. If Mark minds, he doesn’t say, head down as he slurps on the hot soup. At last, when the food has cleared and even Donghyuck’s bowl is empty, Mark places his chopsticks down.

“Thank you,” Mark says. His eyes don’t leave the table, as if the right words will bubble up from the leftover pool of sauce in a dish. “Everything was delicious.”

“It’s mostly Taeyong’s cooking,” Donghyuck admits. “Although I do pride myself on making awesome omelettes.”

Mark cracks a smile. It’s a welcome change. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

Donghyuck props his chin on his hands, letting out a pensive hum. “I can’t ride a bike.”

“So infamous Lee Donghyuck has a fatal flaw after all.”

“The bicycle is an outdated method of transportation. I’m as close to perfection as a mortal will ever get.” At Mark’s nod, he flushes, desperate for a diversion. “What about you?”

Mark’s gaze drops to his palms. “I… can’t seem to not fuck up.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“No, it is,” Mark says and the words are punctuated a bitter laugh. It sends a pang to Donghyuck’s chest. As if prompted, his hand moves to cover Mark’s, who turns up his palm to grasp his fingers.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Mark starts, voice wobbly. “Today at practice, I just kept messing up. We practiced and practiced, and each time I just kept missing a step. The comeback is so close now, we’re literally days away, but I can’t seem to get things right. Jaemin and Jeno told me that I’m thinking too much, but how can I not when I’m fucking it up for all of us?”

“Mark…”

Mark shakes his head, unhearing. “I’m slowing down the practices with my mistake. I’m supposed to be the leader, I’m supposed to be perfect, but I’m just not good enough.”

“But you are.”

Mark opens his mouth to object, but Donghyuck beats him to the chase. “The first time I learned how to bake, I nearly burned down Taeyong’s kitchen.” Taking in the way Mark’s eyebrows rise, he continues. “I was an impatient little brat. I always stuck my hand in the batter when Taeyong wasn’t watching. Anyways, the first time he taught me how to bake a cake, I cracked the eggs so hard there were probably shells in the batter. And when the cake finally finished baking, I cried so much that Taeyong started crying as well.” The image brings an amused smile to Mark’s face.

“I grew up thinking that cakes automatically turned out perfect. They were perfect when my mom made them, and perfect when Taeyong made them, so imagine my surprise when the whole thing turns out to be lumpy and dry mess. I was horrified, to say the least.”

“But your cupcakes are always perfect now.”

Donghyuck shrugs. “Not always. The first batches of a new recipe are almost always throw-aways, and sometimes, even the fifth or sixth batch is a failure. What the customers see are the best versions, the ones that are meticulously frosted and garnished. Even then, I wouldn’t call them perfect.”

“They look pretty beautiful to me.”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” Donghyuck smiles. “And I find it has little to do with perfection. But I guess people like us can’t help but be meticulous about the things we do.”

Mark is silent as Donghyuck clasps Mark’s hand between his own. “I don’t know much about idol life, but I’ll admit that I’ve watched videos of you and you’re… magnetic on stage. You’re not perfect, Mark, no human can be. But you’re pretty close, and that’s more than good enough.”

No matter how much Donghyuck stares he can’t read the look in Mark’s eyes. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t catch the way Mark leans in, hands tightening in his grasp, until their lips are mere inches apart and he finds his own eyes fluttering shut.

It’s a salty kiss. Donghyuck can taste the lingering hint of garlic between the press of their lips, but he still leans in, still pushes forward, still drops his weight onto Mark and lets the boy hold him close.

Mark is the first to pull away, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. Donghyuck revels in the irony. His arms stay circled around Mark’s neck while the boy in question looks everywhere except for his face. They sit in silence, until Donghyuck caves. “Are we-”

“Thank you.”

Mark is looking at him again and this time, Donghyuck doesn’t have to be a genius to see that his eyes are glassy. Donghyuck wants to swallow down the lump that rises in his throat.

Instead, he croaks out, “No problem.” After a silent pause, he disentangles his limbs from Mark’s form, stumbling to his feet to collect the empty dishes. The action spurs Mark out of his seat, grabbing the dishes from Donghyuck’s hands. “Let me help you.”

He doesn’t wait for Donghyuck to respond as he strides to the sink and sets down the plates, flipping on the tap and slipping on gloves. Somewhere between Mark squeezing detergent onto a sponge and sudsing up the first dish, Donghyuck’s brain catches up to speed.

“You don’t have to-”

But Mark shakes his head with a smile and that’s all it takes for Donghyuck to stand back and watch the way Mark rolls up his sleeves to scrub away at a pan. There are questions on his tongue begging to be asked, but he keeps his mouth shut, letting the sound of running water fill the silence.

That night, after he sends Mark off with a leftover cinnamon cupcake slathered in warm fudge and a hug that lingers for a beat too long, he can’t fall asleep.

 

 

The thing about routines is that you don’t realize how accustomed you’ve become to them until they cease to become routine.

The thing about routines is that Donghyuck didn’t realize how Mark had become one until the door fails to chime just before closing hours and he realizes he’s been rubbing down the same stain on the countertops for the past three weeks since Mark has stopped coming by.

The thing about routines is that when one ceases, another rises to take its place.

Donghyuck sees Mark’s face everywhere. On the TV, on the subway, on bottle of lotion that he takes to the checkout line with poorly concealed mirth. Overnight, it seems that the entirety of South Korea has fallen for SM Entertainment’s breakout act of the year, a trio of three heartthrobs whose faces had become plastered on billboards left and right since the start of their comeback. The article Donghyuck had read on Chenle’s phone was wrong. DREAM’s success was apparent to anyone with eyes.

But even with Mark’s seemingly nonexistent pores blown up on big screens, Donghyuck can’t help the sadness that creeps in to fill the void of Mark’s absence.

“Stop acting like he’s dead.”

Renjun’s never been one to mince his words, probably because he can barely wield a knife well enough to peel an apple.

“For the love of Anthony Bourdain, please put down that knife before you end up stabbing both of us,” Donghyuck sighs, scraping cubed apple bits into his mixing bowl.

“I’m entirely capable of handling a knife, thank you very much.” Yet, Renjun places down the weapon and his half-peeled apple next to it. “And don’t think you can change the topic through the power of Anthony Bourdain. We were discussing you and loverboy.”

“You were-”

“He’s not dead, Donghyuck. I saw him on TV just this morning. Is it so hard to tell him that you miss him?”

No, it really isn’t hard at all. Mark is always just a text message away, even if he might take a few hours to reply.

“We’re not like that.”

Renjun steals an apple slice. “Not like what? Two idiots that kiss and then proceed to fumble around each other like socially awkward preteens? Don’t tell me you’re waiting for him to knock on Taeyong’s door and ask for your hand in courtship.”

No good ever comes out of telling Renjun about anything. “It’s not like he even has time to do that,” Donghyuck huffs under his breath. He picks up Renjun’s tortured apple, carefully sliding his knife under the skin.

Renjun rolls his eyes. “For someone who attended Le Cordon Bleu at the age of 16, you sure are a dumbass.”

“I invited you over to help me make apple pie, not give me unwanted advice you stole from your Maury marathons.”

“Don’t act like you weren’t there,” Renjun dismisses with a wave of his hand. “Why are you baking apple pie anyways? You don’t even like them.”

Donghyuck decides not to tell Renjun about the article he saw this morning about Mark’s apparent affinity for apple pies that he revealed during an interview.

Instead, he says, “Jisung likes them.”

Renjun looks far from convinced.

 

 

 

It’s 2AM when Donghyuck’s phone rings. One look at the caller ID and Donghyuck’s dropping his rolling pin, wiping his flour dusted hands on his apron to pick up the call.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” Mark’s voice is low and raspy, and Donghyuck decidedly has to sit down for this.

He aims for casual. “What’s up?”

There’s a murmur of noise from the other line before Mark speaks up again. “Nothing much, I just… felt like calling.”

“Oh,” Donghyuck smartly responds.

“Yeah.”

The murmurs rise from the other line again, until Donghyuck hears a distinct crash. He jolts up in his seat as a new voice rises.

“Hi, is this Donghyuck?” The voice is laced with laughter.

“Yes?”

“We’ve never met but hi, I’m Jaemin! Mark’s groupmate, if you didn’t know.” In the background, Donghyuck can hear what must be Mark shouting for his phone back.

Of course he know who Na Jaemin is. Half of the country has learned his name.

“Don’t worry,” Donghyuck laughs. “I know who you are.”

Jaemin lets out a chuckle, the sound static through the receiver. “I just wanted to talk to you, but Mark never lets me.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“He’s a grumpy old man,” Jaemin lilts, breaking off into more laughter. The shouting in the background increases in volume. “Oops, I’m currently hiding in the bathroom right now, but Jeno can only hold him back for so long. Anyways, I stole the phone from Mark because I just wanted to thank you.”

Donghyuck blinks. “For what?”

“To be honest, I don’t know. It’s just that since he met you, Mark… changed.” The mirth fades from Jaemin’s voice, leaving in its place a quiet, pensive tone. There’s a shuffling sound, before Jaemin resumes. “For the better, I think. Jeno and I have known him for a long time, and we could tell that he was struggling. He just refused to talk to us about it, so I’m glad he found you.”

There’s that lump in Donghyuck’s throat again. Just as he’s about to speak up, to tell Jaemin thank you, a shriek pierces his ear and the call disconnects. Donghyuck’s left staring at his phone screen, bewildered.

Meanwhile, Jaemin’s words echo in his mind. I’m glad he found you. The effect they have on his brain is numbing, and he can only hope that he’s not slacked jawed as he sits in silence, mind raking over every syllable.

It’s then that his phone lights up to life. Donghyuck nearly takes his own eye out as he scrambles to pick up the call.

“Hey, Donghyuck?” Mark sounds breathless. “Sorry, Jaemin tackled me and ran off with the phone. I hope he didn’t say anything weird.”

 _I’m glad he found you._ “No, he didn’t.”

“Oh. That’s good, uh. I lied.”

“What?”

“I lied when I said I called you just because I felt like it. I actually wanted to ask you out on a date, because our promotions just ended and-- You don’t have to say yes if you don’t want to.”

Donghyuck looks down at his flour smeared apron, then over to the counter littered with apple peels. The air is warm with the scent of caramelized sugar. Just then, the oven timer dings.

“I’d love to.”

 

 

There is nothing atypical about a date past midnight by the Han River. That’s what Donghyuck tells himself as he treks up a dimly lit path, one hand holding a picnic basket and the other gripping his phone. The night spring air has yet to turn cold, but Donghyuck mentally pats himself for bringing a jacket.

When he finally comes across the bench that Mark had pinpointed in his texts, he sighs in relief. No matter how enthusiastic he had been to shove food into the basket, he’d skipped enough arm days to be suffering. Donghyuck sets the basket onto the bench with an audible thump, before settling down himself.

He opens his phone, the only source of brightness aside from the distant glow of the moon and a lamp-post solid handful of yards away. Mark’s last test had only been a few minutes ago, an “almost there” punctuated with no minimum of car emojis. Donghyuck feels laughter bubble up from his throat, until the hand that falls on his shoulder rips out a scream instead.

“Woah, woah, calm down, it’s just me!” Donghyuck whirls around to see a stranger tugging down his mask to reveal a familiar face.

“Mark,” Donghyuck wheezes. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Mark laughs and settles on the bench beside Donghyuck. “I didn’t think you could scream that high. Are you sure you’re a baker and not a vocalist?”

“Something like that,” Donghyuck mutters, holding his face in his hands to smother the flush that has spread across his cheeks.

“I’m sorry if I scared you.”

Donghyuck turns to Mark with raised brows. “You don’t sound sorry at all.”

Mark’s lips curl into a smile and he launches into a fit of giggles. “You’re right, you looked pretty cute jumping up like that.”

Call Donghyuck delusional but was Mark Lee… flirting? Donghyuck could play at this game, if he tries. “Becoming the nation’s number one idol overnight really made you bold. I guess it’s true what they say about the fame going to your head.”

The words feel right in his mouth, until he feels Mark’s hand enveloping his.

“Three weeks is a long enough time to realize that you should tell somebody you miss them,” Mark says. He meets Donghyuck’s eyes and in glow of the moonlight, Donghyuck can trace the swell of his lips, the curve of his nose, and all the details he’d missed even though he saw the same face everyday.

In the glow of the moonlight, they inch close, drawn by an invisible force.

Just then, there’s a rustling from the nearby bushes. They jump apart. Donghyuck can feel blood rushing to his ears, panic rising. Beside him, Mark lets out a quiet, “Shit.”

Before Donghyuck knows it, Mark loops his arm around Donghyuck’s elbow, tugging him up and away. They make it a few steps away when the rustling becomes louder and all of a sudden, a dark figure jumps out.

Mark lets out a yelp as Donghyuck bites back a blood curdling scream. Panic tints his vision. He’s ready to fight, to throw a punch or break a camera if he needs to-

“What the fuck.”

The raccoon stares back at him with no amusement. They’re locked in a staring match before it decides that the two humans are boring and scampers off.

Donghyuck regains his breathe. “What-“

“I can’t believe I thought it was the paparazzi,” Mark sighs, slumping back down on the bench. He pats the space next to him for Donghyuck to sit down. “Three weeks and suddenly everything I do is interesting.”

“Have they been following you around?”

Mark squints into the distance. “I don’t think so. It’s strange though, I can’t help but be wary.”

He turns back to Donghyuck, an earnest look in his eyes. “That’s why I was scared to start a relationship with you. It would be unfair to you. We can’t go on dates like normal people do, unless it’s at the ass crack of night. I can’t hold your hand in public unless I want it to be on the cover of every magazine. I want to be with you, because I think I might love you, but I can’t give up my life and you can’t give up yours.”

Sitting on the park bench, hand an inch away from Mark’s, Donghyuck looks up at the night sky and remembers the time when he was sixteen, heart heavy as he zipped up his suitcase. His closet was half empty and so were the walls of his room, clothes and posters neatly tucked away in his suitcase. Taeyong had insisted on helping him pack, only to break off into tears halfway through a pile of sweaters and excuse himself to the bathroom, leaving a helpless Donghyuck to sigh at his belongings.

The door creaked open and Johnny peaked his head through.

“Doing alright there?” Sensing Donghyuck’s tension, he slipped in and shut the door behind him.

Donghyuck nodded. “I’m fine.”

The response did nothing to appease Johnny. “You unfolded that,” he pointed to the shirt in Donghyuck’s hand. Donghyuck looked down to realize that indeed, it was the same shirt he had just finished folding a minute ago. He set it down with a sigh.

“Do you sometimes think that it would all be easier to just, I don’t know, not try so hard?” Donghyuck asked.

Johnny’s eyebrows rose. “That’s a very non-Donghyuck thing for you to say, Donghyuck.”

Donghyuck rolled his eyes. Johnny must think that he’s so funny. “Nevermind.”

Undeterred, Johnny grabbed the shirt from the floor and started folding it. “To answer your question, yeah, I have. I think you’ll find that in life, everyone asks that question.”

Donghyuck watched as Johnny laid the shirt inside the suitcase, before reaching for another item. “What was the answer?”

Johnny let the shirt drop into his knee to give him a knowing smile. “Some things are worth the extra effort.”

Donghyuck had only nodded, and proceeded to bury his face in Johnny’s chest.

Now, sitting on a bench next to Mark, the words come back to him. He places his hand on top of Mark’s and turns to face him.

“How about we try anyways?”

 

 

Three Years Later

 

There are a multitude of reasons why Christmas is Donghyuck’s favorite holiday. He thinks of the white snow that lines the streets, the crowd of people submerged in the holiday spirit as they rush to and fro, and the scent of sugar and spice in air as Taeyong pulls out sheet after sheet of gingerbread cookies waiting to be iced. There are a multitude of reasons why Christmas is Donghyuck’s favorite holiday but right now, curled up on the couch in his living room with his phone in his hand, Donghyuck can think of a particular reason: Mark Lee in a reindeer headband.

Donghyuck makes no attempts to hide his laughter as he watches the fancam of Mark stumbling around the DREAM concert, flustered as he adjusts the reindeer headgear on his crown. When the camera zooms up on Mark pouting, Donghyuck spares himself a breathing moment to take a screenshot. He manages to calm himself down just as Mark picks up the mic.

“A few years ago, I would have never expected to stand on a stage like this, in front of so many people.” Jaemin and Jeno stand to his side, nodding. “I don’t think I could have made it this far without the support of our fans, my fellow members, and some very special people.” He pauses, looking into the crowd as if searching for a face, before he breaks into a wide smile.

“This is for you.”

Donghyuck yelps when arms circle around his waist, pulling him backwards into an embrace. A kiss is placed on his cheek and the arms wrapped around him tighten. Delighted, Donghyuck slumps into the touch, soaking in the presence of Mark.

“What are you watching?” Mark murmurs into his ear.

“You as Rudolph,” Donghyuck giggles.

Mark groans and the sound tickles Donghyuck’s neck, but he makes no attempt to move away. After the long months of touring, Mark was finally here, wrapped in his arms and pressing kisses to his cheek. Donghyuck wouldn’t have it any other way.

He turns around, eyes twinkling, and seals his lips against Mark’s.

_Yeah this is fate, and that’s a fact. When it’s too hard, I’ll be your green light._

_I’ll be your home._


End file.
